


Military Precision

by ChancellorGriffin



Series: 2017 "The 100" Kink Meme Fills [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Military Kink, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, The Ark Station
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 05:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancellorGriffin/pseuds/ChancellorGriffin
Summary: Cadet Blake follows Councilor Kane's orders to the letter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> filled prompt from the 2017 "the 100" kink meme on livejournal (LINK HERE:http://100kinkmeme.livejournal.com/1869.html)
> 
> PROMPT: "Kellamy before the ground. Cadet Bellamy and Kane doing it back in space. Marcus gives him orders in the bed room."

_The councilor is a kind man who’s made himself unkind to survive, but Bellamy knows all about that, and doesn't judge him. It's so much better this way. The ones who fuck you over are the cruel ones who wear a mask of kindness so you never see them coming. No, Councilor Kane strides the halls of the Ark like he's made of the same cold gray metal as the ceiling and floor, but you’d be naïve to think that’s who he is all the way down._

_Of course, most people are naïve._

_Or they just never got close enough to see what Bellamy saw._

_Bellamy isn’t even sure if_ Kane _knows how much more there is to Kane than he shows the world. (Bellamy knows a little about_ that, _too.)_

_So that’s why it works, the thing between them. Kane stands back proud and cold, gives orders, tells Bellamy what to do. And Because Bellamy has looked over and over into those deep brown eyes and knows there is absolutely no cruelty in them (Stern, yes. Harsh, yes. Cruel, never), it's nothing but pleasure to submit. Because Kane would never hurt him, would never abuse him, would never cause him actual pain. It's somewhere between playacting and reality, but it gives them both what they need – Bellamy wants someone to take all the weight off his shoulders, and Kane wants someone to look at him like he's right, and they both want the kind of fucking where everything feels clean and simple. Where two such naïve idiots as themselves can pretend this is simple physical release, no feelings involved._

_Even though the sudden softness in Kane’s brown eyes after he comes makes Bellamy’s heart flip over every time. Even though the square set of Bellamy’s shoulders as he strides the halls in his cadet uniform makes something blossom inside Kane that feels like pride._

_But that doesn't_ mean _anything._

_Right?_

_Of course not._

* * *

 “On your knees, Cadet Blake,” says Kane as he locks the door behind them.

“Sir yes sir,” says Bellamy, dropping effortlessly into their regular routine. He sinks to the cold floor and unzips the dark canvas, lifting Kane’s cock free from the black shorts underneath it. Kane likes to be sucked into hardness with all his clothes on, likes this part in full uniform, likes to make sure Bellamy remembers Kane is his commanding officer. Bellamy doesn’t mind, Bellamy loves it too, it’s honestly such a fucking _relief_ to have somewhere to go where he isn’t the one in charge. He loves O, he’s used to taking care of her, he’d never dare complain about it even to himself, but he lets himself feel how restful it is to submit to someone with perfect trust.  To let someone else do the thinking.

He trusts Kane, so he obeys.

(Not to mention how much being submissive turns him on.)

Kane varies his instructions here from time to time, based on his mood, maybe a little bit to make sure Bellamy’s always paying attention. Keeping him sharp, so he doesn’t get lazy. Tonight he wants Bellamy to deep-throat him (a challenge, given Kane's size, but not an impossible one, Bellamy’s gotten used to it by now and can make it work). He paces himself, takes Kane in bit by bit. Not because he can’t just go deep all at once, but because part of the ritual is that Kane likes to say “Deeper, Cadet Blake. Deeper. More,” and Bellamy likes to hear him say it, so he starts by just sucking hard on the swollen tip and cradling the shaft lightly in his hands.

“Deeper,” says Kane’s low voice, making Bellamy shudder, and he does what he’s told.

He’s slow and careful, it’s important to get this part right, Kane’s the kind of man who cares about the details. Careful not to drip saliva onto Kane’s jeans, careful not to squeeze too tight, careful to hit the exact right pace between rushing it and drawing it out. After six months, he’s note-perfect at this, and he’s rewarded – as he always is – by a gentle hand on his head.

“Very good, Cadet Blake,” says that low rumbling voice, but warmer now. “That’s enough.”

“It’s the “very good” Bellamy lives for, not to mention that light touch, he’s almost embarrassed at how urgently he craves it, how it’s come to be almost as important as the sex. Kane always offers his hand to help him up from his knees, and every once in awhile – like tonight – there’s a moment where Kane looks at him with something in his eyes like he might be thinking about kissing him, but he never does.

“Take your clothes off,” says Kane, and Bellamy obeys.

Military precision is required here, obviously, everything folded and lined up just so. Bellamy tried, once or twice, to undress Kane too, but the councilor has his own system. He undresses himself. Knife-sharp folds on his slacks, boots lined up square against the wall. Nothing goes any further until the room is spotless again. Then “On the bed, Cadet Blake,” Kane says, and it’s time for Part Two.

There’s a routine for this as well, unvarying every time. Bellamy lies back on the narrow gray mattress, tugs the pillows into position to raise his ass up at a better angle, and gets to stroke himself for a few minutes while Kane goes to the dresser for the little plastic bottle.  Then, “Up,” he says to Bellamy, who lifts his ass obediently, drawing his knees open and back, and closing his eyes to exhale a sigh of pure bliss as slick wet fingers work him open.

This is how he knows the secret thing he knows about Marcus Kane, that the hardness is an act, that the man inside wants to be gentle. Because he always stays here longer than he needs to. He performs the necessaries, gets everything ready, and then it’s all done, he could get right to the fucking, but he _lingers._ Every time.  It’s like he wants to touch Bellamy purely just to touch him, but he can’t, so taking his sweet time with the bottle of lubricant is the cover he gives himself just to stroke softly at the smooth skin of the boy’s ass, petting the opening with light tender fingers because he knows it gives Bellamy pleasure. Because he knows what it means for Bellamy to have someone touch him.

He turns the slick liquid contents on himself, then, stroking himself up and down, delicious messy wet noises, before settling into position, kneeling between Bellamy’s spread thighs, hooking the boy’s ankles over his shoulder and leaning in. And this is a hint too, because it’s so much easier to just bend Bellamy over the bed, that’s the only way he ever thought men did it, Bellamy had no idea until Kane came along that there was another way to do it which might be hell on the thigh muscles but let you push into an insanely deep angle and look at each other while you fucked.

It’s more complicated, but it’s also more intimate, and the fact that Marcus Kane doesn’t shove him over the back of a couch and yank his jeans down is more telling than Bellamy thinks the other man knows.

Kane’s never kissed him, never spoken a term of endearment, never called him anything besides “Cadet Blake,” never murmured anything to him in bed that wasn’t an order. But when his cock slides in, slick and hot and perfect, into the hole his gentle fingers teased open, Bellamy watches him, and every time, _every time,_ Kane's mouth falls open and his eyes go wide and it’s like he’s _startled_ by the sensation of pleasure. His sharp edges blur and go soft a little, when he’s inside Bellamy, when the friction of skin on skin makes them both tremble. It’s impossible for him to be the man he is outside these walls, because that man is always in control, and this man is wide-eyed and gasping, hips rocking, hair coming a little disheveled, hands gripping Bellamy’s shoulders.

Bellamy doesn’t talk either, it’s always silent except for their soft little grunts and gasps. But as soon as Kane gets his bearings, pressed in deep enough that Bellamy can hold him in place there, he braces one hand on the mattress, bearing his full weight, and wraps the other around Bellamy’s cock . . . something else he’s under no obligation to do, really, except that he wants Bellamy to feel good.  Because as far back as he holds himself at a distance from the world, there’s a part of him that still cares. So Bellamy lets Kane have everything his way, because it’s a good way, it always works, they make each other come and it’s _so, so good._ And because, if Bellamy is honest, maybe a part of him is chasing that spark of warmth and softness that flickers in the depths of Kane’s eyes and hoping there’s more to it than that.

The aftermath is orderly as well, two sticky orgasms cleaned up briskly with a warm cloth, and then Cadet Blake is sent on his way while Councilor Kane goes to bed.

Every night, the same. Bellamy steps out the door, turns back, looks at him.

Kane looks back.

“Thank you, Cadet Blake. That will be all.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Then nothing, a door closes, a wall of steel between them once again, ready to begin again tomorrow.


End file.
